Grail

THIRTY

It was still dark when I awoke. Judging by the deep darkness of the forest, dawn was still very far away. At first I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep, but then I heard again what must have roused me: the horses were awake and whickering restively to one another, so I roused myself, thinking to see what might be done to calm them.

The fire had burned itself to a heap of ashes, and I had to stumble over the sleeping bodies of my swordbrothers, waking a few of them, who joined me at the picket with the horses. 'I feel as if I have slept an age,' remarked one of the warriors. 'But it looks as though dawn is still far off.' He gazed around warily. 'Indeed, if I did not know better, I would say the darkness has only increased.'

As he spoke, a thin trickle of fear snaked along my ribs. I raised my eyes to the darkness above, dense and heavy as iron. Others joined us and began offering their observations. Some held that the night had passed and we would soon see the sunrise; more maintained that the time for sunrise had passed without bringing the light.

Before the disputation could become contentious, however, Arthur brought an end to the speculation by putting the question to Myrddin directly. 'Is this the enemy's doing?'

Myrddin hesitated, then glanced quickly at the warriors, who stood awaiting his answer. 'Yes,' he said simply.

The king nodded. 'It makes no difference.' Turning to the Cymbrogi, he said, 'Our swordbrothers should have reached us by now. We are going back for them.' He ordered the horses to be saddled and all idle talk to cease; he commanded torches to be prepared, and once we were saddled and ready to depart, the torches were lit.

Thus, we took up the search for the lost Cymbrogi, returning along the trail by which we had come the day before. Whether the sun shone beyond the cover of the forest, I cannot say. All I know is that the light of day did not reach us, and we rode in darkness as complete as that which covers the earth on the stormiest of nights.

Without the sun, however feeble, to mark time's slow passing, it seemed we journeyed an eternity, stopping only to rest and water the horses and to renew the torches, continually alert to the wood around us all the while. We travelled what must have passed for a day in the wider world, slept a little, and continued on, never knowing where one night left off and another began, moving from one march to the next without speaking more than a dozen words to anyone. And all the time the darkness wore on us; a grindstone it was, covered in darkest silk, perhaps, but a stone nonetheless, grinding and grinding us down to dust.

See, now: fear stalked the bold Dragon Flight – fear like the immense shadow beast loosed to rampage through our anxious ranks. Stouthearted men started at the smallest sound, and sained themselves with the cross whenever they thought no one else was looking.

Arthur – alas, even Arthur – who feared no earthly foe, found reason to be afraid – not for himself, mind, but for his queen. Her name was never far from his lips. From time to time he roused himself from his bleak meditations and made an effort to lift the spirits of his warband – he called encouragement to those who appeared to be struggling, and offered conversation to those who seemed most in need of distraction – but his labours went unrewarded.

At times the forest trail seemed to twist around upon itself and, occasionally, another path might be seen to diverge from the main – although there was never any question about which way we should go. The Pendragon led without wavering. Even so, it grew increasingly apparent that we would not gain our destination no matter how long or far we rode.

'Only a little farther,' Arthur argued. 'We must be nearing the end.'

'Arthur,' Myrddin replied gently, 'we should have reached it long since.'

'We go on,' Arthur insisted, and so we did.

So unvarying was the trail, and the darkness so unrelenting and complete – and our fortitude stretched so thin and fine -that the clearing came as a shock to our benighted senses.

Without warning or sign, we simply rode out from the rooflike cover of the trees and onto a wide river mead. Even in the darkness we could tell that it was a clearing of considerable extent. The sound of rushing water could be heard from the other side of the mead, and the damp, chill closeness of the wood gave way to the sudden gusts of a cold winter wind.

As we had ridden some way since our last resting place, the king thought best to make camp, water the horses, and refresh our own water supply. Accordingly, we found a place beside the encircling stream to picket the horses and began dragging dead limbs from the surrounding wood. Glad for this change, such as it was, we fell to with a will and soon had a large campfire burning with the brightness of a beacon on the edge of the clearing.

Far better for us if we had endured the darkness and cold, our accustomed misery. Far better, indeed, if we had never set foot in the Wasteland at all!

For, as the campfire reached its height and we gathered to warm ourselves around it, the flamelight revealed a great oak tree a short distance away. At first we knew nothing of it but that it was a true monarch of the wood, ancient and lordly, supreme ruler in its domain, and that it stood alone in the centre of the clearing, which, bounded by the encircling stream, formed an almost perfect ring around it.

But then, as we drew closer and looked up into those huge gnarled boughs, we glimpsed strange, elongated shapes twisting in the wind. We looked and courage, already rattled from the long, grinding darkness, took flight. With nothing to halt the rout, our beleaguered imaginations fled instantly to the worst.

Ah, but the truth awaiting us in those misshapen boughs was far, far worse than anything we could have imagined.

We looked to where Arthur stood, Myrddin at his side, gazing towards the great oak. The king stooped and took a brand from the fire, drew himself up, and then started for the tree. Taking up brands, we hastened after him, crowding in close to one another so as not to be the hindmost.

Closer, I could see the strange shapes dangling in clusters from the lower limbs like enormous bats. It was not until we stepped almost directly underneath the foremost bough that I realized what it was we were seeing.

Terrible silence crushed hard upon us. I could not breathe. I could not speak. My strength flowed away like water. A fearful drumming filled my ears and boomed in my head. I staggered back and, God help me, I vomited bile over my feet.

Then, forcing myself to a courage I did not possess, I wiped my mouth on my arm and stood, taking my place once more beside my king. Myrddin stood beside him, his hand on the king's shoulder and the other to his eyes, as if to shield them from the sight of that tree's terrible fruit.

Only Arthur, firebrand in his hand, yet stared up into the tree at the naked corpses of his brave Cymbrogi.

'Come away, Bear,' I heard Myrddin mutter. 'There is nothing to be done here.'

Arthur made no reply, but shrugged off Myrddin's hand and gazed full on the grisly display before us. Each of the lower boughs bore the corpses of at least four warriors – bound singly, or in groups of two or three – and there were more hung high in the upper branches, and yet still more beyond these. From what I could see in the shifting light, most of them had died in battle. Many had lost limbs and several had been disembowelled. Every corpse had been shorn of both hands and feet, and these we discovered placed in a ghastly ring around the roots of the tree. Some few must have been alive when they were hung, for I saw bloated blue faces of men I had once known as swordbrothers among the dead: Cai and Cador and Bedwyr.

Brave Cai, his tongue protruding, swollen in his mouth, his scalp hanging loose on his skull… Cador, friend and stalwart companion, his arms bloody stumps and his legs broken and limp, his mouth gaping in a last, silent scream… and Bedwyr, hero and champion, his smashed jaw dangling on his chest, one eye gouged out, the remains of a spear jutting broken from his stomach…

Tears rose in my eyes then, and I had to look away. My God! my spirit cried out in grief and anguish. God, why? Why these?

Myrddin tried again to get the king to leave, and again the Pendragon refused. 'My men are here,' he said, his voice grating in the deathly silence. 'My place is with my men.'

'You can do nothing for them,' Myrddin said, almost harshly.

'I can bury them,' Arthur snapped.

'No, Bear,' Myrddin counselled. 'It is the living you must think of now.' I wondered at this answer, but trusted the Emrys would have a sound reason.

Thrusting a helpless hand towards the tree, Arthur said, 'I cannot leave them like this and still call myself king. Go, if you must, and take the men with you. I will stay.'

The Emrys frowned, glancing at the dread oak.

'Well?' Arthur demanded, forcing the Emrys' choice.

Myrddin hesitated, and a light came up in his eyes. 'There may yet be a way to preserve some small scrap of dignity and courage.' His voice quickened as he spoke. 'Hear me, Proud King. We will not abandon our loyal swordbrothers in death. We will send them on their journey hence with all honour, in sharp defiance of the wickedness that has so cruelly slain them. Are you willing?'

'You know that I am.'

'Then listen to me.' So saying, the Wise Emrys put his hand to the back of Arthur's neck and drew him near.

They spoke together like this for a time, and then the king drew himself up, turned, squared his shoulders, and said, 'Very great evil has been practised here, and we, who strive towards the light, bear witness to this vile deed and condemn it before the throne of God. Yet, though life has abandoned our brothers, we will not forsake them in ignoble defeat.

'Here in the camp of the Evil One we will kindle a light, and send this light like a spear into the very heart of the darkness that oppresses us. As light shining in the midst of darkness overcomes that darkness and banishes it utterly, so we shall drive it from the hand of the enemy who would employ it as a weapon against us. And the dread tree on which hang the bodies of our friends will become a funeral pyre, and the flames that light our brothers' homeward way will become a beacon of our defiance.'

When Arthur finished speaking, I added my own voice to the acclaim that welcomed the king's pronouncement. Oh, we made that blighted wood ring with righteous adulation. And then we hastened to the edge of the wood round about to gather a bounty of dead wood for fuel, and when we had heaped the tinder man-high around the ancient oak, Myrddin caused the remnant of the Dragon Flight to make a wide circle around the tree.

He then commanded us to walk slowly in a sunwise direction. Led by Arthur, we began; meanwhile, the Emrys stepped to the tinder heap and raised his staff high. Calling in a loud voice, he cried out, 'Great Light, whose life is light and power to his creatures, hear your servant!'

Taking the staff with both hands now, he held the oaken rod above his head and cried, 'We who journey in darkness have need of your light. We who are bereft of hope and beset by evil on every side have need of your power. Lord, in our day of travail, hear our cry!

'Great Light, our kinsmen have been wickedly murdered, and their bodies given over to death.' His voice resounded across the meadow. 'You alone, Lord, hold authority over the grave. Even as your voice quickens the spirit in the womb, so you summon the spirits of the departed to your throne. Therefore, we ask you to call our brothers home to your Otherworldly realm, and give them places of honour in your banquet hall.

This night great evil gathers close, seeking to destroy us. Yet we will trust in you, Lord, to deliver us. If this cannot be, then we trust you to meet us on the way and guide us to your halls. In token of our trust, we light this pyre to hold the darkness at bay. Let it burn as a beacon to light the homegoing of our swordbrothers and put evil to flight.'

Holding the oaken rod above his head, he stood for a long moment and then slowly lowered the staff and extended it towards the firewood. There was a flash of blue and a sound like the tearing of a cloak between giant hands. The fire simply appeared, arcing through the air, flowing like shimmering liquid, leaping from branch to branch, and scattering in bright blue tracery through the dry wood. Within moments the flames were cracking hot and bright, licking up through the tinder heap, leaping up and up into the great spreading branches.

Turning to the Cymbrogi, Myrddin said, 'Sing! Make a noise to rouse the Heavenly Host!' With that he led us in a psalm such as the brown clerics chant in the Holy Mass:

The Lord is my rock!

The Lord is my fortress, and my deliverer!

God is my refuge; He is my shield!

And the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.

The flames mounted higher, stretching into the branches, caressing the lowermost corpses. Ringed by fire, the massive black trunk began to smoulder as the yellow flames stretched higher and ever higher into the tree.

Still walking, maintaining the circle, we began to sing with the Emrys, chanting the words as he led us.

I call to the Lord who is worthy to be praised,

And I am saved from my enemies.

The cords of death entangled me;

The torrents of destruction overwhelmed me

The cords of the grave coiled around me; The snares of death confronted me. In my distress, I cried to my God for help. From his temple he heard my voice.

The heat from the flames forced us back, making our circle larger still. The corpses, now alight, began swinging and twisting in the quickening wind created by the flames. The boughs creaked and cracked as the flames tripped from branch to branch, higher and still higher into the sky.

The earth trembled and quaked,

And the foundations of the mountains shook;

They trembled because he was angry.

There came a long, sighing crack. All at once the mighty tree slumped inwardly upon itself. Riven by fire, the trunk of the oak split, sending sparks spiralling upward on the rising air like thousands of tumbling stars. It seemed to me that these were the spirits of our friends taking flight towards Heaven.

And he looked down in his anger and said: Because their love is set on me, I will deliver them. I will deliver them from danger, for they know my name. I will be with them in times of trouble; I will rescue them from the grave, And bring them honour in my courts; I will satisfy them with eternal life to enjoy their rich salvation.

I said the words as Myrddin spoke them, and watched the glimmering sparks rising up and up, and I thought, Farewell, Cai, stalwart companion, faithful through all things. Farewell, Bedwyr, loyal brother, steadfast in the fight. Farewell, Cador, brave and true. Farewell, my friends, enter into the Peace of Christ. Farewell…

My heart rose to my throat and my eyes filled with tears, and the burning oak blurred into a blazing mass of shimmering, shifting light, and I heard a roar like thunder as the gathering wind rushed to feed the towering flames, whipping them to white heat. The light that blazed from the pyre filled the wide meadow now, forcing back the darkness on every side.

I heard the wail of the wind, and the cold air gusted, swirling around us. My back was cold, my face and hands searing hot from the blaze before me. The scream grew louder and I realized it was not the cry of the wind, but the wild scream of a creature tortured beyond endurance. What is more, the creature was coming swiftly towards us, drawn by the fire.

Myrddin heard the sound, too, and cried out, 'Fear nothing! Greater is he who has heard our prayer than that which assaults heaven with its cry.'

As it rose above the wind, shivering the wood all around us, I felt the wild, keening sound in my belly and then in the quiver of the earth beneath my feet. I thought at first that it must be the Shadow Beast returning to attack us again, but the trembling mounted steadily and I knew it must be something far, far larger and more deadly.

'Listen to me!' cried Myrddin, and he began instructing us on how to survive the onslaught we would soon face. We were to link arms, he said, and form an outward-facing ring, an enclosed wall with our bodies. Where men might be too far apart they should hold a spear between them, but under no condition were we to break the chain. 'Though Hell itself break over you, do not let go,' the Emrys said. 'Whatever you may see, whatever you may hear, do not break the circle. Keep the ringwall intact and, though the Devil himself leads the attack, we will not be harmed.'

I reached out to the man next to me – it was Rhys, his face grim in the lurid light. We linked arms, then clasped hands with the warriors on either side and braced ourselves for the assault. The ground began to shake, and I heard a sound like that of giants crashing through the wood, uprooting trees, and casting them aside. The very earth trembled beneath our feet, and the forest all around cracked and groaned with the snapping of branches and the twisting of limbs. What, I wondered, could cause such destruction?

Suddenly the sound stopped and the ground ceased shaking. The roar of the flames behind us seemed to still for a moment and even the wind grew calm. I have seen this before, and know it to be but the false tranquillity of an enemy gathering itself for the onslaught.

'Stand your ground!' shouted Arthur. 'Here they come!'